


The Lady and the Huntress

by raiyana



Series: The Dwelf series [32]
Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarf Culture & Customs, F/F, Gen, Winter in Ered Luin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Ered Luin, 2858:The young Princess of Durin's Folk goes hunting with one of her friends.At least that was the plan.
Relationships: Dís & Frís(Mother OC), Dís/Dís's Spouse
Series: The Dwelf series [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/593011
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020





	The Lady and the Huntress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HSavinien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/gifts).



> A Return to the budding romance of Dís & Víli!  
> Written for HHH2020 for HSavinien.  
> Thanks to bunn for betaing and helping me wrangle the odd words into submission!

## Ered Luin, 2858

“ _Yeees_ , I’ll bring my axe,” Dís said, trying not to snap at her mother, who smiled that annoyingly knowing smile – but knowing about _what??_ – at her. Dís tried not to feel warm – she was an _adult_ , she shouldn’t feel like she was sneaking around without permission, surely? – as she set the axe in its loop of leather on her belt. She obviously hadn’t intended to leave it behind – she always felt rather naked without the familiar weight of the weapon at her side. “It’s only hunting, Amad, don’t fret.”

Víli would be waiting for her at the edge of town, and Dís didn’t want to be late; going into the woods with her friend was the best way to clear her head that she knew. Víli’s presence was always enough to make her feel that things would work out for the best.

“If I was fretting, I’d send a guard with you,” Frís replied quietly, taking up her pliers once more, wrapping bits of silver wire into and around each other in an intricate pattern that would become the crest of their line.

Dís groaned at the thought. Dwalin wasn’t home so with her luck it’d be one of those old codgers who spent the whole time either bowing to her or so on edge they jumped at every sound.

“ _Please_ , no,” she whined. “I’ll be with Víli, I’ll be _fine_.”

“I know,” Frís said, smiling that smile again. “And so I wish you luck on your hunt – hare, was it, this time? – and do give my regards to Víli.”

“ _Yes_ , amad,” Dís said, as she slung her cloak over her shoulders, adding the red fox fur stole with the Durin clan pin on a whim – Víli had gifted her the fur the year before, and the red fur brought out the deep red tones in her dark hair – wondering at Frís’ tone. She had told her several times that Víli the fur trader had promised to take her hunting for hare pelts, after all – why did she need yet another confirmation?

Frís simply smiled, bending her golden head over her work, and Dís decided to escape before she could come up with other daft questions to ask.

Frís seemed to be excelling in asking odd questions of late, almost as though she was expecting a particular answer. Dís couldn’t work out what that answer was meant to be. Amad’s probing questions and strange comments didn’t appear consistently either – so she must have a purpose… but Dís couldn’t work out what it might be.

Dís left their home, shaking her head at the mystery of her mother’s odd mood. Perhaps she simply missed Thorin more than normal; he was late in returning from the road, though not so late as to be truly worrisome – and Dwalin had gone with him, so he was surely safe enough.

The settlement was doing as well as could be expected, too, and Dís herself was happy enough, too, despite Branka’s annoying desire to court her. But she had that well in hand, she thought, and Amad would never want her to marry a dwarf she couldn’t stand, so surely she couldn’t be implying Dís was sneaking off to meet with _Branka_ …

No. No one in their right mind would ever believe that, even if Branka’s many and varied fantasies stated as truths made it seem like he was winning her over.

Dís snorted a laugh at the thought. No.

But if none of those worries could be what weighed on Frís’ mind, Dís felt a bit at a loss to come up with other options.

But today was for _her_ and Víli was waiting, so with a shrug, Dís abandoned her musings, smiling in passing at Katla, and continued towards the edge of the village, her breath fogging in the chill of the morning.

She enjoyed the crisp sound of fresh snow under her boots and the bracing chill of the early winter day as she walked. Víli was always early when Dís requested she take her out – amad just smiled in the most infuriating manner when Dís tried to explain to her why going out with her favourite hunter just made getting their furs and skins _feel_ better than buying at market – and Dís would be lying if she claimed the thought didn’t make her walk slightly faster. “My lady Princess,” Víli greeted, a soft smile on her face as she bowed respectfully. “At your service.”

“Dís,” Dís replied, as she usually did, though Víli never seemed to remember that she had been asked to use her name. “Good morning, Víli.”

Víli’s smile was soft but held an edge of mischief as he nodded. “My lady Princess Dís,” she said. “You look ready for a day in the forest.”

Dís could feel the smile that stretched her mouth, made her softer, feeling oddly pleased by Víli’s approval. “You flatter me, huntress,” she teased, rubbing her thumb over the head of her axe – a nervous habit she had never seemed to be able to break – and feeling comforted by the weight of it at her side. Thorin’s work, a gift for her fiftieth Name Day, and made perfectly for her hand.

“Never,” Víli protested, but she was laughing. “Just appreciative that you’re not like the rest of the useless nobs I’ve seen around.”

Dís snorted half a laugh, well aware of the type that made Víli despair. “I’m a _Princess_ , Víli,” she replied, grinning. “But I was raised so far from the wealth of Erebor, the title seems almost meaningless to my everyday life… I find those nobs as pointless as you do – nary a day’s honest work done among them.”

“Your brother does work very hard,” Víli conceded fairly. “He’s not much like what we expected from a Prince, at all.”

Dís raised an eyebrow at her.

“Neither are you.” Víli ducked her head a little, blushing, though she did not take the words back, which Dís appreciated. Hiding behind her blonde locks, she glanced at Dís, muttering something almost too low to hear.

Dís’ grin grew smug. “Well, I do appreciate the compliment on my looks,” she replied sweetly, chuckling a little when her words made Víli splutter something unintelligible. “I mean it, Víli,” she continued, willing her most skittish friend to believe her with every bone in her body. “Thank you.”

Víli really had the sweetest way of blushing.

Shouldering her pack – she expected that they’d be able to hunt for some sustenance, but the sense she had inherited from her amad had seen her pack a small bag of flour and salt, too, alongside a skin filled with fresh beer – Dís nodded at the road that would soon enough become little more than a track beneath their feet.

“Shall we?” she asked.

“After you, my lady Princess,” Víli said, gesturing down the road with a half-bow that had become quite a bit more fluid since the first time Dís had seen her try to copy the move.

She thought it strange that she had always felt patronised when Branka did it, cornering her at some inescapable function or other, but Víli’s version was guileless and honest, accompanied by an open smile that warmed her more than the fur-trimmed cloak over her shoulders.

Humming happily to herself – she had sneaked away to the Woolly Bear the night before to listen to the newest songs; encountered Víli there, in fact, and set up the day’s hunt on a whim – Dís put her foot on the road out of their village.

And Víli walked beside her, smiling in the sunlight, snatches of melody falling from her lips to join in Dís’ small song.

The trees rose tall around them, spindly trunks reaching towards the winter-blue sky above, their needle covered branches deep green against the whiteness of the early snow lingering in the shaded parts of the woods.

As the Sun climbed higher, the sounds of the woods came alive – tiny birds twittering in patches of shrubbery, mice and others rustling through dry piles of brown needles – and Dís’ breath fogged gently in the chill air. It was peaceful; she was always peaceful when Víli took her out, took her away from the bustle of the village they had made their own, settling hundreds of Exiles in land that had been scarcely populated for several thousand years.

“I like this,” Dís said quietly, brushing dry needles from her knees as she rose from a perfectly placed snare, catching a glimpse of one of her favourite expressions on Víli’s face. Part pride, part something she couldn’t quite quantify, there and gone as soon as Víli noticed her eyes, turning her gaze back down to the newly set snare.

“I like this, too,” Víli admitted shyly, letting dry needles fall from her hands to cover up the snare. “You make a fine hunting companion.”

“Great praise,” Dís teased, following along.

“I mean it,” Víli swore, though she was trying not to laugh.

“Well, there are worse things to be,” Dís replied, feeling suddenly cold. “Like married to Branka.”

“I think that will not be your fate,” Víli shrugged. “No matter what he seems to think – or not think, as it were; how many times have you turned down his attempts at courtship?”

“Thirteen… now,” Dís sighed. “That’s why I went to the Woolly last night. He asked me again, yesterday – I was trying not to remember.” Jumping onto a large rock, she balanced for a moment, looking up at the pale sky. The moss felt springy beneath her feet when she hopped down again, filling her nose with a green scent.

“Some people fail to understand any point not made by an axe,” Víli sighed.

“I’d be perfectly willing to beat Branka for a few rounds with mine,” Dís laughed, bending to pluck a couple of the fresh green leaves. The wood sorrel filled her mouth with refreshing tartness as she chewed.

“A sight worth seeing, I’m sure,” Víli smiled, accepting a few leaves of her own. “You’re a bonny fighter.”

“Perhaps I should challenge Branka for my hand,” Dís mused, patting her axe fondly. “I’ve seen him spar – I’d definitely win.” For a moment, she allowed herself to picture the look on his face as she pushed it into the dust.

“Anyone who can beat Dwalin can most assuredly beat Branka,” Víli chuckled. “Though I’m sure he’d wander around under the assumption it was a ploy to get close to him, afterwards,” she added thoughtfully, moving a branch aside to duck under it. “And his father is the Jarl, so…”

“You’re probably right,” Dís sighed. “Still, I would be satisfied if I never had to see his oily grin again or watch him leer at me.” On paper they might have made a good match – Branka’s adad certainly seemed to think so – but Dís had never felt even a slight stirring of desire to spend her life in that manner.

Her duty to her people would not stretch that far – not if she could help it, at any rate.

“If I must wed, it will be for love,” she nodded decisively to herself. “And amad and Thorin both are with me in that, so Mahal help anyone trying to change that.”

“I don’t think anyone – _watch out!_ ” Víli screamed and Dís felt something hit her, and then a sharp searing pain along her calf. Dís hit the ground hard, seeing nothing though there was a heavy rustling sound and a long low growl.

“Víli?” she asked, spitting out a mouthful of brown needles, pushing herself up off the ground to look around. “Víli?... Víli!?”

But Víli was nowhere to be found.

Dís’ head throbbed slightly, and something warm coated her forehead, running into her eyes. Irritated, she wiped her hand across her face only to hiss in pain as she discovered a small cut along the ridge of her browbone; the area was already swelling beneath her fingers. A small rock gleamed wetly with her blood, nestled among the brown needles and the green of the wood sorrel patch at her feet.

Dís scowled at it, kicking it out of the way before she remembered that Víli was _gone_.

“Víli?” she called out, hating the thread of fear in her voice, thin and reedy as she tried for volume. Where was Víli? “Víli, where are you?” Wiping more blood out of her eye, Dís got to her feet.

The ground where Víli had been was trampled by hoofprints that made Dís shiver in sudden fear.

“Víli!” she screamed, but got no reply as she staggered onwards, following the trail of broken branches and churned ground.

_Please be alive…_

She had known there were boars in the forest, but as a distant awareness; hadn’t Branka been bragging about the upcoming hunt for his adad’s prized boars left to roam the slopes all through summer?

Dís shivered.

She had seen what such tusks could do to a dwarf, and the throbbing cut on her leg told her more than she wanted to know of the quarry she now tracked.

 _Víli saved me_ , she thought, gasping in pain as she put all her weight on her left leg. Looking down, she felt almost confused at the long gash in her boot; surely that wasn’t _her_ leg?

Except it was, and the amount of blood was worrying enough to break through her stupor.

 _You have to bind that, Little Bird_ , Dwalin whispered in her mind, and Dís could almost feel his big hands demonstrating the proper way for her much younger self as she tried to be brave about falling from the tall tree down by the pond.

But Dwalin wasn’t here to help, now, and Dís shook her head at herself trying to focus. Wielding her dagger with confidence, she cut strips of linen from her undyed undertunic. Undoing the straps around her boots made her groan in pain, sitting back down as she waited for the nauseating throb to dissipate slightly. Removing the boot’s upper parts, Dís breathed a sigh of relief. The cut was bad – Óin would have to be called, surely – but she didn’t think she was in grave danger if she could stem the bleeding. Stuffing her makeshift bandage against the wound she hissed in pain, securing the linen carefully with a bit of the strapping from her boot; the tusk had sliced through parts of the leather and the leather beneath, but it’d hold well enough for now.

Stubbornly, Dís got back on her feet, swaying slightly. Taking her axe in hand, she felt slightly better, using the sharp blade to cut a length of wood in passing; she needed a bit of support.

She had to find Víli.

Staggering onwards, Dís tried to keep hopeful; Víli could not be _gone_ , surely, her sweet smile extinguished like a blown-out candle.

Víli had to be alive.

She simply had to.

Dís wasn’t willing to accept anything else.

Stubbornly setting one foot before the other, Dís continued through the forest, feeling like she had walked for hours though she knew it had been far less.

And then Víli was there, dazed as she stared at her, her back against a narrow pine and her front…

“Víli!” Dís screamed and then she was on her knees beside her, hardly daring to reach out. “Víli… please don’t be dead,” she whispered, moving her hand to cup Víli’s cheek gently.

Still warm.

“Víli,” she repeated. “Can you… hear me?”

“…D´s,” Víli croaked, blinking slowly.

Dís thought she had never seen a smile quite so beautiful.

“I’m here,” she promised, catching Víli’s hand in a firm squeeze.

“You’re… unhurt?” Víli asked, groaning as she tried to sit up straighter.

“Hush, love,” Dís murmured, finally daring to look away from Víli’s face.

 _So much blood_.

Víli’s clothes were soaked crimson, the usual greens and browns turned muddy dark with blood and she reeked of boar. Carefully, Dís undid the clasp at her throat, releasing a pent-up breath when she felt Víli’s heartbeat against her fingers when she pressed them against the pulse point at her throat.

It was swift, but steady.

“Uhm… Dís?” Víli asked shakily, though she made no move to stop Dís untying the string ties keeping her clothes on, moving the bloody fabric aside; no obvious tears in her clothes but… _so much blood._

Dís hadn’t realised she had whimpered the last words until Víli’s hand caught her wrist just as Dís found the smooth unbroken expanse of skin that covered her stomach.

Lifting her head, Dís knew that her eyes were wild, her own heart beating a quick tattoo of fear.

“Not… mine,” Víli promised, squeezing her wrist gently, moving Dís’ palm up until it rested over her heart.

Dís let out a small whimper, her free hand seeking confirmation at Víli’s throat.

Steady, not quite calm, but steady as rock, and she could find no wounds though Víli hissed a bit when she pressed her palm against her ribs.

“Beast winded me,” Víli wheezed. “Got me in the ribs – I don’t think they’re broken.”

“You’re… Víli, you’re…” Dís wept, hiding her face against Víli’s bared shoulder, breathing in the smell of her as the fear left her in great heaving sobs.

“We’re alive,” Víli murmured gently, and Dís felt her hand shyly, so tentative and shy, pet her hair for comfort. “ _You’re_ alive, Dís,” she added, her own breath shaky. “Maker!”

“We’re alive,” Dís agreed, rubbing her thumb gently over Víli’s skin. “We’re alive,” she sighed into her shoulder, her head swimming slightly.

“Dís…” Víli began, clearing her throat slightly. “You’re… uhm… _touching me_.”

Dís froze. Her fingers still moved slowly, however, gently reassuring herself that Víli truly was _unhurt_.

Víli cleared her throat again.

Dís looked up at her.

“I am,” she agreed, which seemed like the funniest thing she had ever said, making her laugh brightly.

Víli smiled at her, that smile she loved best, and Dís had to smile back at her.

“We need to get home,” Víli whispered, making no move to dislodge her.

“Yes,” Dís agreed. “We should get home.”

It still took her some time to stop rubbing her fingertips across Víli’s chest, feeling too comfortable with her arms around her.

“Wait…” Dís said, staring across the small clearing in disbelief. “You killed a boar _with your dagger_.”

Víli’s face turned bright red at the stark admiration in her voice and Dís thought that might also be the most beautiful she had ever been.

“It’s what I had in my hand,” Víli admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t… I didn’t bring a spear or anything – we were setting _snares_ , Mahal wept! – and when I pushed you…”

Dís shivered.

“Well, it hit me and I…” Víli hesitated, looking pale. “I thought I was dead then, but I… I was on it’s back, somehow?” she asked, adorably confused as she looked down at the still beast. “And I wasn’t thinking, I just… stabbed it.”

“You saved me,” Dís smiled. “You _saved_ me, Víli.”

“How could I not?” Víli whispered. “You’re… Dís, you’re _everything_.” She paused indecisively, but then she squared her shoulders. “I love you – and I know it’s foolish, and you’re the _Princess_ , but I…” Closing her eyes, Víli seemed to wait to be struck down by divine retribution.

She did not expect Dís to hobble two steps closer, wrap her hand in Víli’s hair and tug her close enough for the kiss that seemed to have burned in Dís’ heart for longer than she was willing to admit even to herself.

But the soft needy sound and the way she kissed her back made Dís smile in the knowledge that she was right. This was her home, her love, _her_ _Víli_.


End file.
